


The Square Root Of 69

by wannabehipster



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), F/M, Female Stiles Stilinski, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sorry Not Sorry, derek hale says babe, it's my head cannon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2012-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 04:04:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wannabehipster/pseuds/wannabehipster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Can we try something new?" Derek whispers, voice bordering a growl and the buzz of fear sends a jolt to the coil in her stomach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Square Root Of 69

Derek flies through Stiles' window at promptly 12:36 in the morning, just as she was _finally_ understanding the next chapter in her Chemistry textbook. Now Stiles' knows she should not be up this late on a Thursday night, but she spent the better part of the night researching fae- since they're the newest mythical creature to plague Beacon Hills. By the looks of it, Derek had an incident with a few. He's covered in dried blood, dirt, his clothes in tatters and has a triumphant smirk lighting up his face; Stiles just sighs as she pushes herself away from her desk. He stands still (something she could never dream of achieving- ADHD and all) as Stiles' fingers flutter around, poking and probing all his damage.

“They attacked me first, had to kill them in self defense. Get some mountain ash from Deaton just in case.” He says, not flinching even a bit as Stiles pokes a large gash across his chest. She feels her eyebrows furrowing as the urge to _protect_ and _heal_ course through her, as if Derek can read her mind, he cups her cheek tenderly (she'll never admit to the rush of calm that fills her). “How many were there? And luckily I have leftover from when the rogue pack stalked me. I'll place it tomorrow morning.” She attempts a smile, but it must look like a grimace because Derek visibly softens.

“There was only three, everything is already healed up babe.” He ducks down to press a kiss to her forehead, brushing a stray lock of hair away from his path. The tender moment is tucked away in the section of her heart dedicated to only him, but her nose has to ruin it with picking up his current smell. He reeks of the coppery tang of other people's blood and of death (with a hint of sugar?)

“No offense or anything, but you smell really gross right now babe.” He laughs and crushes her even closer, causing Stiles to shriek and push away with all her might (all of her lacrosse practice with Scott has apparently not done it's job.)

“Do I have too?” He whines, peppering her neck with open mouthed kisses as she focuses on keeping an even breathing pattern through her mouth.

“Yes.” She says, slightly breathless (she has a perfectly valid excuse; Derek Hale, the living replica of Adonis is feeling her up- never mind the fact that it's the billionth time that situations of this type happened.). Only she can get away with bossing around a moody alpha, but Stiles is always up for breaking stereotypes- it's becoming one of her many talents (amongst being a walking bestiary and beating the shit out of things with an aluminum bat). Derek makes a noise in protest, more wolf than human but then Stiles pulls her fluttery-eyelashes-and-pouty face and it has him stalking to the bathroom instantly.

“You don't play fair.” He growls, the noise almost covered by running water. Stiles snorts and makes quick work of her _'day clothes'_ (aka skinny jeans and a plaid button-down). She's digging through her messy drawers, waving the pair of sleep shorts around like a victory flag. She slides them over her legs and throws her sandy colored hair into a ponytail; she doesn't have to dress up to see Derek-never has and definitely never will. He's seen (and sniffed _and_ tasted) every part of her and his love is still so pure and strong, it catches her off guard every time she comes to terms with it. A tumble of love and lust send her body buzzing with energy, so to burn it off she putzed around her room- she organizes her mess of a backpack (it should be considered a hazard to anyone within a fifty-foot radius) and grabs a clean set of sheets from the hallway linen closet (she is going to need something sanitary to cuddle on later).

She's busy fluffing her pillows when she feels a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist. Stiles drops the pillow and rests her head on his shoulder, exposing the milky column of her throat to Derek-who in turn nuzzles it affectionately. She keens as he worries her pulse point between human teeth, rolling her hips back onto his. In an instant she's pressed up against her bedroom wall, one of Derek's thighs nudged between hers and her wrists are pinned high above her head. He must be attempting his fatal plan (she nicknamed it Stiles'-Death-By-Too-Much-Teasing) since the pleasure is already drumming through her slimmer frame.

She gave up with trying to decipher what Derek was attempting and started to roll with it. The wall was cool against her overheated skin, Derek's hands applying enough pressure to her wrists to hold her still but not enough to hurt (as if he could cause her harm intentionally.) She felt the blood sizzling through her neck, pooling up in all the spots where Derek marked her with blunt teeth. His free hand was palming her breasts, slow and demanding, dragging her higher and higher. His scent (smoke, leather and soap) invades her nose, turning every thought in her brain to mush besides _harderharder_ and _fuckmeplease_ (which in Stiles' defense, are always running rampant in her mind when Derek is involved.)

She's so wet already and if she doesn't cum in the next five minutes; well Derek's thigh is good enough. His cock is hard and hot as it presses into her hip, still covered by his dark gray briefs and Stiles' lets a saddened whimper escape her lips. Her brain is in overdrive and she's biting her lip to keep all the fantasies inside. He stops the assault on her throat to look into her eyes- his own flashing red and heavy lidded- and deems her ready for another set of wicked plans. “Bed. Now.” Derek scoops her up bridal style, kissing her like she's more important than oxygen (their lips moving like it's a race to the finish.)

She's dropped on the bed with a thump and there's only a moment pause before Derek is caging her in. Another whimper breaks through her as cold air washes over her exposed skin where he isn't touching her. Her legs part on instinct, as wide as they can go so Derek fits perfectly. His finger dips under her damp panties, stroking up her slit before delving inside; twisting and crooking it so it brushes against that one spot inside her until she's quivering under his skilled touch.

“Can we try something new?” Derek whispers, voice bordering a growl and the buzz of fear sends a jolt to the coil in her stomach. She nods (how can she deny him anything, honestly?) and she's suddenly being maneuvered into a new position. Sometimes she hates how Derek can pick her up with no effort (she isn't a Barbie doll dammit) but when her limbs are feeling detached- it's quite useful.

Snapping out of her tangent, Stiles' becomes totally aware of their newest position. She's on top now, her face eye level with Derek's cock and then there's a blow of warm air across her lower half – causing her to shudder. Her mind catches up with the situation and holyfuckingshit. Her muscles tense up unwillingly and she knows he senses it, if the supposedly soothing touches count as evidence. His touch was soft and warm-she was still so _wet_ and if fingers crept just a little higher.

“Babe, you okay?” Derek asked, his voice a confusing mix of desire and concern (deciphering both would require effort way beyond what she was willing to put forth) and Stiles did the only thing that she could-rut into the open air and pray he got the point. She _needed_ his touch, it ranking higher on the list of survival than food (and man did Stiles crave curly fries.)

Derek hummed in approval before burying his face into her, tracing her opening with the tip of his tongue. His fingers gripped her hips hard enough to bruise as a moan slips past her kiss-swollen lips. His cock is leaking precome in a steady stream and a stab of lust fueled pity washes through her as she thumbs at the head, gathering the precome with nimble fingers. She's dragging her hand slowly down his shaft as she angels herself to suck him down- her ministrations halting for a moment as Derek begins thumbing her clit.

She hums mostly to herself as pleasure seeps through her, most of her wild thoughts settling as she focuses on Derek (he doesn't get enough of that, which is totally unjust in Stiles' mind.) She mouths at the head and kitten licking around it, knowing it drives it him insane. She was rewarded with a growl that rumbled through her and a quick caress of her most sensitive spot.

“This is war,” she mumbled gleefully before descending downwards- swallowing as much as she can without choking. She works the base with her hand and hollows her cheeks for suction; the hot and heavy weight against her tongue keeping her from drowning in the sensations flowing through her.

Derek wasn't playing fair, not with his crooked fingers brushing against her walls and tongue circling her clit. His breath is fiery hot against the wetness between her thighs and every noise he's making is causing her toes to curl. She feels the coiling in her stomach-the telltale sign of her impending orgasm but Stiles is nothing if not determined.

She's pulling every trick she knows to bring him to the edge she's teetering on; she cups his balls with a feather light touch and kitten licks the indent where his most prominent vein ends until he's quivering beneath her. Her subconscious gives a cheer of celebration as she lets herself go, to enjoy every ounce of pleasure that's burning her from the inside out. She's moaning out a warning (that sounds more garbled than intended) and she's cumming so hard she's shaking.

She's just coming from down from her climax and then Derek's spilling inside her mouth; her throat working double time to capture it all down but there's so much (Stiles' chalks it up to his alpha werewolf business) and some eventually makes its way to the corner of her lip. She releases him with an explicit pop and she doesn't protest when he manhandles her so she's resting against the smooth sheets. His face is slick and shiny with her essence with a wicked and reckless grin dancing across his face (he is the embodiment of every sin her father warned her about.)

“It couldn't have been that bad babe,” he said giddily. Instead of a verbal response, she tangled her fingers in the soft hairs on the nape of his neck-pulling him down for a kiss. It tasted of _StilesandDerek_ with a touch of love and misplaced desire (everything Stiles could hope and dream of.)

“I'll take that as 'it was wonderful Derek, thank you so much for having that idea'” He jokes and Stiles can't comment because her sourwolf is making an attempt at humor. It's a big deal. He pulls her in close and he reeks of sex and musk and home, so her eyelids flutter shut and hopes for more Derek inspired experiences.

**_fin._ **

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the song "What's My Name?" by Rihanna.  
> I've been reading fic in this fandom since I signed up for AO3 but this is my first fic I've written :D


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